Off The Path
by Theralion
Summary: Seven perspectives on the time when one girl's decision altered the outcome of a tankery tournament, on who was responsible for what happened, and on whether any price is too great to pay for the sake of victory.
1. Mizuno Aoi: Crisis

**Chapter 1: Mizuno Aoi: Crisis**

In all our lives, there comes a time when we realize just how trivial day-to-day concerns such as winning the tournament we're in, getting a boyfriend, getting into college, or so forth are. In many cases, these are the first times when we find ourselves in a situation in which lives are on the line. For me, and for the rest of my tank crew, the lives in question were our own.

We, members of the Black Forest High School tankery crew's Team Drei were facing Pravda Academy's tankery crew in the finals of the tournament match. Initially, nothing seemed to be off about this situation; we were in a desperate situation, but the commander, Nishizumi Maho-san, was adamant that we would prevail if we followed the plan. The plan was to have Team Zwei's flag tank, under the command of the the commander's younger sister, vice-captain, Nishizumi Miho-san, and a few others evade the enemy's main forces while our main force worked to flush out the enemy flag tank.

But then a shell landed near our tank, kicking up a large cloud of smoke and dust on impact. Thankfully for us, it was not a hit, much less registered as a disabling shot. But that feeling soon gave way to horror as we found that our tank was skidding and sliding off the path. We frantically- and futilely- sought to stop our descent, knowing that we were falling into the river below, a natural hazard more unforgiving and deadly than anything Pravda could unleash at us, unbound by tankery regulations or the rules of the tournament.

At that point, this stopped being about something as small as a game of tankery and became a battle for our very survival.

Water flowed into the tank through the small openings that allow us to see and breathe, and we, panicked by the sudden danger of drowning as well as the shock of our sudden and violent tumble into the water, frantically tried to force open the hatches, but failed as we, in a shrinking pocket of air, pushed against a wall of water.

Eventually, the entire tank was full of water, and we desperately held our breaths. We silently called out to whatever powers in existence could save us, a common resort for those whose abilities are inadequate to save them from danger, and who fall into despair and fear as a result. Naturally, I made many desperate promises, being willing to sacrifice the tournament victory, become a better woman and devote myself to helping others if I could simply survive this. Living up to those promises was something I could take care of once my survival, and with it, my ability to do so, were guaranteed.

But no signs seemed to come; either the higher powers were refusing to help us, or they simply did not exist. At that point, despair began to sink in, the penultimate stage in a series of emotions I've heard some people go through as they are dying.

"_Am I going to die here…?" _I thought. I was about to give up at that moment, until I looked around and saw my friends and subordinates struggling to hold their breaths. If I gave up or died, what would happen to them? This thought did not give any answers, though, and I was left with the realization that I would be unable to save myself or my closest friends.

It seemed as though i would die without accepting my fate or being able to change it, a depressing and anticlimactic end to a short life.

_"There were so many things I wanted to do..."_ I thought. _"I suppose the others felt the same way. Girls... I'm sorry."_

But then somehow, the hatch opened from the outside and we saw Miho-san, who had seen our tank fall and had come to our rescue. Intense joy and hope came over me; perhaps this is what it was like to see an angel. Miho-san then pulled us through the hole, enabling us to swim to the surface. As we filled our lungs with air once again, our hearts began to feel incredible relief. All of us had survived.

But after I made it to shore and slowly rose to my feet, I looked around and realized the full extent of what this had cost Miho-san, and crippling pangs of guilt came over me.

There was a white flag raised on our team's flag tank. Pravda had won, and it was because of us.

* * *

Miho-san's decision was not wrong, and she would never have had to resort to that desperate action if our tank had not fallen in the water. But few realized this, and so Miho-san bore the weight of her guilt for a year, until I met her for the first time since then at the next year's finals. Miho-san was in high spirits, which was the greatest relief that I saw since I first put my head above the surface and breathed fresh air after escaping the tank with her help.

Some people understood what I was feeling, such as one of Miho-san's new friends and teammates, who looked on and gave a knowing smile as I spoke with her to express my gratitude. Others did not, such as Miho-san's successor as vice-captain, who had in the past criticized her decision, and now glared at me. There had been many people watching Black Forest's unprecedented tournament defeat, from many angles. If there is one truth behind the event, its causes, and its aftermath, it lies somewhere between all those perspectives.

* * *

**Author's Note**

This is a fic intended to look at the incident at the finals of the last tournament in more detail, specifically, everyone's perspectives on it. What do they think went wrong? Who was responsible? What were their feelings? How were they affected? What do they hold most important?

The narrator for this chapter is intended to be the teammate who comes over to talk to Miho in Episode 10 , thanking her for saving them and expressing relief that she didn't give up on tankery. To my knowledge, she doesn't have an official name. I chose to show her first because to desperate and terrified girls with their lives on the line, nothing else matters, and future chapters will look at the immediate and long-range implications of Miho's decision. She also implies in Episode 10 that she feels responsible for Miho bearing responsibility for Black Forest's defeat, and was worried about Miho after her sudden departure from Black Forest.

The story will focus on the perspectives of seven different people related to the event: Mizuno Aoi, Kotetsu Karin(Miho's driver in Black Forest), Katyusha(whom you likely know as Pravda's diminutive commander, but you may not know was the one who scored the disabling hit on the flag tank in this tournament), Yukari, and finally, the Nishizumi family- Maho, Shiho and finally Miho.

Regarding Maho's plan, this is my rough interpretation given that a small group of tanks went down the road. It's thus possible that they were separated from the main Black Forest force, possibly as a plan to hide the flag tank. One point of contention with regards to the finals is whose idea it was to go on the cliff path, which resulted in the entire situation happening in the first place. Another issue that should be considered, although it isn't always, is what the alternatives were. I decided to leave it somewhat ambiguous as to whether it was Maho's idea, Miho's idea or whether Maho gave the order and Miho decided the best way to carry it out was to go that way.

I recommend reading the Little Army prequel manga, as it gives more detail about why Miho and Maho do tankery. This fic will include references to scenes and plot points from that manga, particularly a similar incident that's alluded to later on.

**Next Time**: The driver of Miho's tank and the rest of her crew respond to their commander's sudden disappearance in the heat of battle.


	2. Kotetsu Karin: Breakdown

**Chapter 2: Kotetsu Karin: Breakdown  
**

Did the vice-captain, by abandoning her tank to rescue the crew of another, cost us the championship?

Most responses to that tend to be, "Yes, by leaving the flag tank unattended, she allowed Pravda to disable it," or "No, how dare you suggest the vice-captain was wrong to save them?", and it tends to come down to whether people believed what she did was right. For me, there are two more relevant questions. Was the situation in which the vice-captain made her choice unavoidable? And was our defeat once she had made her choice inevitable?

Indeed, perhaps the situation that led to our losing the tournament would never had happened if our flag tank had not been near the river. Or perhaps the decision did not cause our defeat, but delayed it. Like an actor in a play, I, driver of Team Zwei's tank, our flag tank and the team under the vice-captain's direct command, had a view closer than even the front row seats, but could not see everything that transpired on stage.

We were, however, at the center of the action during the match against Pravda, being the target they sought after. Pravda's fierce offensive came down on us, and with every salvo, they seemed closer to taking down our tank, and with it, our chance of winning the tournament. And even though some of their own tanks were taken out, their flag tank remained elusive. Their commander this year, Natalya, was a very skilled tactician, and we found ourselves adjusting our plan in response to her strategy.

"…understood, Onee-chan," our vice-captain said over the radio, then turned to us. "Everyone, we have orders to get out of here!. We will take the flag tank, along with a small escort of Team Drei and Team Vier, out of the line of enemy fire."

I, from the limited perspective offered by the driver's seat, wondered if this was prudent, but knew from what I had heard over the radio that the enemy had been closing in, and we would likely be picked off soon if we continued as we were.

"Understood, Vice-captain!" I said.

"Karin-san, advance along the road at the base of the cliff," the vice-captain said. "Aoi-san, Akane-san, take front and back, respectively."

As our tank slowly advanced along the narrow path at the base of the cliff, I silently hoped we would find refuge from Pravda's ferocious assault. From the radio transmissions, the guard protecting the Pravda flag tank was being thinned down, and it was only a matter of time until we would be able to isolate and pick off the flag tank.

Suddenly, a shell from one of Pravda's tanks hit the ground in front of Team Drei's tank, kicking up dust; either Pravda had moved to intercept us, or had stumbled upon us by chance. The vice-captain watched, gasping in horror, from her position peering out the top of the tank as the other tank slid to the side and tumbled into the water. After a moment of watching the tank slide away, and another of hesitation, she sprang into action and began to pull herself out of the hatch.

"Vice-captain?" I said.

"Sorry, I've got to help Team Drei!" the vice captain said as she leaped out of the tank without saying another word or waiting for my response.

"Wait, Vice-captain!" I called out to her. I then turned to the rest of the tank crew, noticing the two Pravda tanks ahead. Would it be possible for us to defeat them as we were, or would more come and overwhelm us? Could we retreat or were we trapped down here? As the driver, I had to take the tank wherever it needed to go, but as part of the crew, we needed to all be on the same page in order to carry out our plan. And at this point, the one responsible for making our plans was in the process of going after Team Drei herself.

"What are you doing?" the loader asked me. "Without Team Drei in front, we're sitting ducks out here!"

"But…" I said, "The vice-captain's gone and we have no orders from the captain."

"Fight our way out, then!" the gunner said. "This may be the flag tank, but our cannon's not for show!"

"No, we need to retreat!" the loader said. "We're out of the game if we're hit!"

"Whatever you do," the radio operator said, "Team Vier is already moving to protect us!"

On the radio operator's prompting, I turned around and looked forward Team Vier's tank had passed us on the narrow road and tried to squeeze in front of us as the two Pravda tanks closed in. Our escorts were decisive when we were doubtful, and had a consensus where there had been conflict among us. But they were too late.

Our tank shuddered as a shell from one of the Pravda tanks slammed into it, and our white flag rose, indicating that we were out of the game, and thus, our school had been defeated for the first time in a decade. The rule stipulating that the flag tank's disabling was an instant win condition was meant to ensure that schools that were outnumbered still had a chance to win. In practice, it also meant that any team that was winning at the moment could not afford to become complacent, especially when a single lucky shot could defeat them.

Whose fault was it that we lost? Was it ours for bickering when things suddenly turned for the worse? Was it the vice captain's for abandoning us to save Team Drei? Was it Team Drei's for falling into the water? Was it the commander's strategy? Or were we simply fighting a losing battle from the start, and did these events merely hasten our defeat?

One thing was clear. Just as none of our successes could be credited to a single person, not even our extremely talented captain, our failures rarely rested in the hands of a single person, or even a single tank crew. Did the vice-captain contribute to our loss when she left the tank? Yes. Was she the only factor involved in it? No. Would we have won if she had not done what she did? Not necessarily.

Unfortunately, she seemed to take most of the blame for what had happened. It was almost as though she were being scapegoated, but I think it's human nature to assign a single cause for a problem even when ulterior motives such as spite and a desire to avoid culpability don't come into play. To those without the entire story, which is something no one individual possessed, the vice captain had the misfortune of being the one whose role in the loss was most noticeable. I had hoped to talk with her, to let her know that this was not true, and not everyone blamed her. How could we when it was in part due to factors beyond her direct control that she was even in that situation, and she did the only thing that seemed right? How could I when I knew that my team had a chance to avoid defeat, even without her?

The next time I heard from the vice-captain, however, was when she formally submitted her decision to resign from tankery and transfer out of Black Forest. The little we heard from her indicated that she had given up on tankery, and she seemed particularly insistent that none of us were to blame for it, and made a cryptic remark indicating that "something like this would have happened eventually anyway," without elaborating on it. I had to wonder whether she was telling a white lie, since there were members of the team, including her successor, who had complained bitterly about what she had done.

The match left a bad aftertaste for several reasons. We had suffered an unprecedented defeat, a few of our teammates had almost drowned, and I felt as though I was unable to do anything to prevent the vice-captain from feeling as though she had to leave Black Forest- Mizuno-san felt similarly, as she confessed that she and Team Drei blamed themselves for the loss and the vice captain leaving. I suspect even Pravda was less than happy to have won against their greatest rival under such circumstances.

But as we received news of the vice captain's heading the Oarai Academy's revived tankery team, we realized that while one cause was likely not enough to result in our defeat, one event like this was not enough to dissuade her from tankery. I eagerly awaited the day I could see her again on the field of tank battle, this time as an opponent, and hoped for an honest, fun and fulfilling match.

* * *

**Author's Note**

severstal: Thank you for the review and the follow. Part of the reason I chose the crew of the fallen tank first is that they were the center of the incident, and as a result, their perspective is the most limited. This chapter and ones to follow will provide characters with more awareness of what happened, although not all will be entirely aware of what happened with Team Drei, or able to empathize with the crew. A large part of the point of the chapter was that whether they could still win was the last thing on Team Drei's minds (contrast those whose lives weren't in danger; even if they don't disapprove of Miho's decision, they still think about winning more), but they were also not even in a position to know what was going on. Subsequent chapters will reveal more of the battle, including what various players did or did not know at various points.

Karin is an "OC Stand In" of the kind designed to fill a slot in which someone plays a role in the canon story, but has no characterization (for example, in Naruto fanfics, Hanabi, who has less screentime and characterization in hundreds of episodes than some of the minor tank crew members in Girls Und Panzer do in a 12-episode anime, often gets characterized very differently in fanfics). We know that Miho had crewmates with her on the day of the fateful tournament final, but we know nothing about them. In cases such as these, writers typically have to design the personalities of these characters from the ground up.

Some question why the tank didn't do anything without Miho inside, and I imagine that whenever the chain of command is disrupted, there's significant consequences. For example, in "Little Army", when Miho loses confidence in her ability to win, angering Emi, Maho's team fires on them and almost disables them.

I had considered using Erika for this, but in the end, I decided to have someone who could accept her share of responsibility for what happened, and illustrate that Miho might not have been solely responsible. Shiho will serve as the "victory at all costs" spokeswoman later on.

**Next Time**: Pravda has achieved a surprising victory, but Katyusha is forced to acknowledge the factors that helped her to achieve her moment of greatest glory.

Additionally, what do you think of these small previews? Are they effective, particularly in providing a glimpse of the next installment? Do they work for this story but not others? Or do they not work?


	3. Katyusha: Unexpected

**Chapter 3: Katyusha: Unexpected  
**

Darjeeling once told me that "the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." At the time, I dismissed it as another of her weird proverbs, and her making excuses for her early defeat in the tournament. But after having some time to reflect on it, I then recalled that during the course of my first tournament victory- and my school's first victory in roughly a decade, I learned how much coincidence, luck and other factors beyond our control can affect outcomes of situations we're in.

When my high school, Pravda High School, reached the finals, I had a talk with Natalya, commander of the school's tank team, in the office. She- who was pessimistic and self-deprecating to some while humble and realistic to others- was concerned that what she had to say would demoralize the rest of the team, and so asked me to keep it under wraps for the moment while she prepared a pre-game pep talk.

"So Black Forest is our final opponent," Natalya said. "It's been a good run, Katyusha, especially thanks to you and your friend Nonna's efforts, but I'm afraid it ends here. Getting to the finals is a great accomplishment for most schools apart from Black Forest, and there's no shame in losing to them."

"What are you saying, Commander!?" I exclaimed. "There's a big opportunity right here to break Black Forest's nine-year winning streak. And last year, didn't we only get to the semi-finals?"

"That may be true," Natalya said, "But this time, not only is the legendary Nishizumi Maho there, but she's also joined by her younger sister, Nishizumi Miho."

Even I had to admit the odds were steep. Pravda was by no means an underdog, being well-funded, equipped with some of the best tournament-authorized Russian tanks and full of promising tankery students, but all schools faced an uphill battle against Black Forest. Still, I wasn't one to get intimidated by big names in the world of tankery, not when I hoped to establish my own as one.

"That's no reason not to strive for victory, Commander," I said. "Nothing's impossible, but however small the chance is, we can't give up, especially not when there are people out there expecting us to give our all."

"Indeed," Natalya said. "I'm going to make Black Forest earn their victory. I'm going to give the spectators a game they will remember. And I will end my tenure as tankery commander doing what I have always done- giving everything I have, win or lose."

The outcome, however, was not what either of us had predicted.

* * *

On the day of the tournament, it became clear that Natalya was not exaggerating Black Forest's skill when I first saw them in action. While we appeared to be advancing on Black Forest's flag tank, we were also taking severe losses in the process. Hoping to offset this, Natalya set my tank and one other, with Nonna in its crew, to slip behind Black Forest in the hopes of sniping its flag tank from behind. Little did we know that we would run into the flag tank in the process.

As my tank and Nonna's tank advanced along the narrow path at the base of the cliff, I saw three tanks in front of me, including the Black Forest flag tank. This almost seemed too good to be true, but as regulations made it so that it was impossible to disguise one's flag tank, I knew what I had found. Standing in front of me was the opportunity to secure victory, and if I forsook it, our flag tank would possibly fall to Black Forest's overwhelming onslaught.

"Take out that front tank!" I yelled, and the loader and gunner moved to quickly comply with my order.

A shell erupted forth from our tank and struck the ground in front of the flag tank in what seemed like a near-miss. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust, obscuring our vision for a moment. Peering through a tank was a bit like having only a peephole to look outside from your room, and even that visibility had been all but taken away.

The dust cleared, and suddenly, it seemed as though the lead tank in the Black Forest convoy was gone; had we disabled it? But upon closer examination, the flag tank was not moving, either, and the tank in the rear was creeping forward, as if to shield it from us. Something was off about this entire situation. It seemed like a trap, but it would have sprung by now. Instead, the flag tank sat there, defenseless, and I had no time to figure out why.

Those who know me are aware that I'm not the most patient individual in the world. But only a fool would, in this situation, not take a shot on the Black Forest tank, especially considering how the battle had gone on the other fronts. I only had a moment to make the decision, but a moment was all I needed.

"It's time to take down the enemy flag tank! Load a shell!" I yelled, and my loader complied. "Aim!" I yelled, and the turret moved into position. "FIRE!"

Our gunner pulled the trigger, and the shell flew forward, hitting the immobilized Black Forest flag tank. A white flag rose from its turret, signaling victory.

For a moment, I was left unable to believe what I had seen. Had I just disabled the Black Forest flag tank, and won the biggest and most historical tankery game I would likely ever be in?

"Pravda wins the tournament!"

As I sat back in the commander's chair as the rest of my crew began cheering, only one thing went through my head, drowning out all other thoughts.

_"Yes, indeed, I have." _

"DAAAAAAAA!" I shouted gleefully, as I was caught up in the moment.

* * *

Back inside Pravda's tankery club room, after we had returned to school following the victory, Natalya stood before the rest of the team, with me at her side.

"Congratulations on the victory, comrades," she said. "There is nothing that brings me greater pleasure than winning the school's first tankery tournament in almost a decade before I graduate here at the end of the year, and I thank all of you who made it possible. I would like to appoint my successor as commander of the team- one who never gave up in the face of overwhelming odds, had the insight to spot a critical opportunity, and was swift and decisive enough to act on it- "Drifting Snow" Katyusha. This is a historical milestone for Pravda, so let us celebrate it and continue to work toward the next victory!"

Everyone cheered as I accepted the promotion. Tankery has not only given me, a girl of small stature, the ability to command a steel behemoth and give orders to girls who are taller and sometimes older than I am, but it also gives me moments of glory like this. It was the happiest moment of my tankery career, and I decided to enjoy it while I could, hoping nothing could spoil it.

* * *

"Congratulations on your promotion, Katyusha," Nonna said as she approached me after the ceremony.

"Thanks, Nonna," I said pleasantly, being in an extremely good mood at the moment.

Nonna was my best friend among the Pravda tankery team, calm in the face of my short temper that intimidated most other people, willing to put up with or support me as necessary, and she even giving me rides on her shoulders so I could tower over everyone else like she did. She was also the best gunner on the Pravda team, and while I was quite a prideful individual, even I had to respect her skill.

But Nonna was also the one person who was able to be entirely honest with me, even in times when it would seem as though I would take what she had to say poorly. As such, I suspected she was about to touch on an uncomfortable idea that I had that had been bothering me ever since my team had taken aim on the flag tank, but had never once wished to consider.

"But I do have something I would like to ask you about," Nonna said. "You did notice that the flag tank was acting strangely toward the end, didn't you?"

"It was stopped," I said. "But wasn't it so that the other tank could get in front of it?"

"If that were all the case, it would have been moving backward," Nonna said. "It's the opposite, rather; the other tank was trying to shield the flag tank because it couldn't move for some reason. Moving on, there were three tanks in the group, were there not?"

"Oh yeah, the one I fired on," I said. "But just what are you getting at, Nonna?" I said impatiently.

"What I was discussing were the facts that we both observed, and what I will share next is my own suspicion," she said. "Something most likely happened to force part or all of the crew of the flag tank out of it, and because the tank was lacking critical crew members, it was immobilized when we shot it down."

"But it isn't possible that the entire crew could have left without us noticing it," I said.

"It's plausible for one person to do so in that time, and if the commander and/or driver left, the tank would have been immobilized all the same," Nonna said. "And as for why they left… what about the front tank falling into the river?"

"Wh-what?" I said, as something immediately sounded familiar about Nonna's question, which would have accounted for the missing tank in front, as well as another unanswered question I had.

"I heard a little after the battle, that one of the tanks had fallen into the river. I don't believe they mentioned which one, but I believe it was the one ahead of the flag tank. If the Black Forest flag tank saw it and we did not, it's possible someone would have gone after it."

Nonna's statement then brought to mind what had happened with the front tank. I realized that she had understood the significance of this event, as well as its relation to others.

"I also heard that... let's pull up the footage," I said, dread creeping into my voice.

Nonna and I pulled up footage of the battle on a laptop computer, and found a camera that was near the river, facing the cliff wall with the Pravda tanks on the left and the Black Forest tanks on the right. Much to my unpleasant surprise, I saw what Nonna had been talking about. After we had fired on the tank in front- which, as the footage showed, was a near-miss instead of a hit- the tank slid, not just off the path, but into the water. And then, I saw a girl in a Black Forest tankery uniform who was peeking out of the hatch leap down from the tank, tumble down the embankment, and disappear out of where we could have seen her before diving into the water.

"Wait… rewind that- show me the girl on the tank," I said. Nonna rewound to a frame in which the girl's face was clearly visible. "Who is that? She looks vaguely familiar. I think I saw her when our teams exchanged greetings just before the match"

"Nishizumi Miho," Nonna said. I was less than familiar with Miho's face, but immediately remembered her name, and her rank in Black Forest.

"Then… after that girl left the tank…"

Nonna nodded solemnly.

"Cut off the head and the body will die," Nonna said. "That tank was most likely in no condition to retreat, fight back or even protect itself without its commander to give orders; I imagine the members had different ideas of what to do, and weren't able to move the tank together without the commander having the final word. Perhaps they could have regained their composure and decided what to do if given a few moments longer, but time was a luxury they did not have. As Natalya aptly put it, Katyusha, you did indeed spot and, act on a 'critical opportunity,' seizing victory."

Unable to deny the truth any longer, I let off a fierce growl of frustration and anger. I had won in large part because of circumstances beyond my control and had unwittingly taken advantage of several girls' lives being in danger. Unlike war, an ugly sort of conflict in which, for whatever reason the warring nations or soldiers fight, the goal is to break the enemy's will or ability to fight, tankery is purely a contest of skill; the winner gets a trophy and the loser neither gains nor loses anything. But at times, the winners are not necessarily the best ladies or even most skilled teams; luck and circumstances often play a role. This incident was not necessarily the only reason I won, but I could not definitively say that we would have won if it had not happened, or that I would have been the one to take down the flag tank.

It occurred to me that Nonna most likely wasn't the only one in Pravda who realized this and admitted it to herself, but the only one who came forward about it, being the only one who was completely forthcoming with me. Our crews, who had been with us at the time, saw what we did. Maybe even Natalya realized that this was part of the reason why she had achieved what she had thought to be unattainable. More than likely, all of Black Forest knew what had happened, as did all of the audience that was watching at that moment. Thousands of people knew about the brief but long enough moment of opportunity that enabled us to win this year and would remember it for a long time.

I also made a vow on that day- I would face both Nishizumi sisters again and defeat them with my own power. Nishizumi Miho would not cede the victory to me this time, but would be driven into a corner by my superior tactics and be defeated by the might of Pravda's tanks. Once I had done so, there would be no doubt as to who stood on the top of high school tankery in my generation.

Little did I realize that when we next met, Miho would be leading up a no-name school- a fact that went to my head and left me unable to resist taunting her before the match- or that she would lead that school to victory over me when it seemed as though I had her entire army at my mercy. Least of all did I expect that I, who had always sought victory and glory, would actually accept that loss. Looking back on it, if you're able to take responsibility for your defeats, they're more bearable than realizing that you did not earn your victories; perhaps that was why Natalya was prepared to accept being defeated by Black Forest. Things don't always go the way you plan or expect them to turn out, but surprises of that nature aren't always unpleasant.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

severstl: Thank you for the review. Some of the later chapters were planned to come out after Episode 12 airs so that certain details, such as the outcome of the match, are included. I rewrote part of Yukari's chapter after Episode 11 aired to include a reference to Miho saving Rabbit Team, but I forgot that there was a numbering system for Black Forest. I decided to set up my own team names to keep the tanks separate (an earlier draft called Miho's tank "the flag tank", Aoi's tank "the fallen tank", and Akane's tank "the tank in back", among other variants thereof).

Regarding some of the other points, that was an oversight; Karin was supposed to turn back around after turning to the others, and in an earlier draft, Miho was inside the tank before I noticed that she had her head and upper body out the hatch. So was my miscounting the number of shots, although it seemed to me as though the tank only started sliding after the last near-miss. Shiho's turn will come in the sixth chapter, to contrast her point of view on the tankery with Maho and Miho's.

Katyusha's perspective shows someone who is initially (in part willfully) ignorant of certain events, and shows how she came to terms with it after the fact, including discovering things the reader already knows as a way of showing what it means to find out. For her, winning is important, but instead of fighting to uphold a tradition of victory at all costs, she fights for the sake of her own pride. It's thus most likely that to her, unlike to the Nishizumi School, a victory that doesn't prove her superiority is meaningless, and she would forfeit an opportunity to seize victory if she considered it beneath her (insert your own obvious height joke here).

My interpretation is thus that Katyusha's pride leads her to have difficulty accepting that she won in part because Miho jumped out of the tank. It's also thus possible that she may not have realized what went on at first in the heat of the moment, or possibly refused to believe it given how badly Pravda wanted to win against Black Forest. Katyusha's taunt to Miho was most likely a petty way of posturing before the battle, and once she was soundly defeated, she most likely came to the conclusion that Miho was simply better than she was.

It seems as though the tanks from opposing teams have no way of communicating with each other via radio in mid-battle, possibly to prevent trash talk or people leaking their teammates' strategies, knowingly or otherwise. Notably, among other examples, 1)Darjeeling rises out of the top of her tank to briefly address Miho, who is in a similar position, in the middle of their battle. 2)Alice, in the middle of her breakdown, sticks her head out of the top of her tank and begins yelling at her pursuers, who can't hear her. 3)Katyusha herself, having the Oarai team trapped inside a building, sends a pair of Pravda girls on foot with a white flag to deliver her terms of surrender.

Notice that in the anime, Nonna doesn't hesitate to do things like correct Katyusha (pointing out that she did tell her about Miho), tell her to wipe her face or even tease her a little (when Katyusha claims that her heart is as large as the Siberian plain, Nonna suggests that that must mean it is as cold). It's thus possible that Nonna is not the only one in Pravda who noticed something was wrong, but was the only one who was willing to go to Katyusha about her suspicions.

Natalya is essentially another OC designed to fill a role, namely Katyusha's predecessor as Pravda's tank commander, and to illustrate that facing an opponent with a nine-year winning streak is enough to get one somewhat disheartened about the chances of winning, especially when Natalya has experienced two of those years herself. Breaking Black Forest's winning streak is not only significant for Black Forest, but also for the school able to do so.

This is essentially the end of the first part of the fic. Yukari's part will follow next, then the Nishizumi family in the last three chapters, which will examine it in a broader context of Miho's ideals of tankery.

**Next Time: **Watching the finals, the events left an unforgettable first impression of Miho on Yukari. Does her lack of involvement mean she cannot understand what was at stake? Or does her lack of investment in the outcome make her best able to empathize with Miho and Team Drei?


	4. Akiyama Yukari: Judgment

**Chapter 4: Akiyama Yukari: Judgment  
**

People will likely remember the Japanese high school tankery tournament finals in my first year of high school for many different reasons. For some, it was because Pravda broke Black Forest's winning streak. For others, it was because of the incident in which the crew of a Black Forest tank nearly drowned. For me, it was, more than either of those, the first time I laid eyes on Nishizumi Miho-dono in action, and had an unforgettable first impression of her.

She was very skilled in a tank, but the factor that stood out most in my mind was, ironically, the one time she arguably contributed to Black Forest losing the match. Near the end of the match, I, as well as a good portion of the thousands watching this match, watched in horror as a tank slid and fell into the river. But then, as Nishizumi-dono leaped out of the tank, and swam over to the fallen tank, there were once again gasps, but of hopeful surprise rather than shock. And then cheers erupted as Nishizumi-dono emerged above the water with the crew. In choosing to save her comrades, Nishizumi-dono risked more than her team's victory, and that she was able to succeed on her own, bringing back all the crew alive and in good condition, was nothing short of amazing.

I may be a more zealous fan of tankery than most people, but I also recognize that it's essentially just a game, in spite of whatever values people may attach to winning or participating in it. I suspect that most of the thousands of fans who watched the tournament out of love of tankery rather than a loyalty to a specific team, felt the same way; my parents, who watched only because I wanted to, agreed with me. In addition to my fascination with all things related to tanks, I knew that tankery was meant to be beneficial for a woman's development, whether she enlisted in the military, took on a civilian job, or became a housewife. And regardless of however talented she might be at tanks, Nishizumi-dono proved the true strength of her character in that moment by understanding what truly mattered and giving her all to save her comrades

Unfortunately, it seemed as though some people did not see Nishizumi-dono's decision this way. When I checked tankery forums regarding the match, some Black Forest fans blamed her for what had happened, and I wondered if there were those on the team who had done so more openly. The debates often focused on how much of an impact her decision had; for all I care, she could have single-handedly caused the defeat and I still would have seen it as the correct choice. Some time after the finals, Nishizumi-dono left Black Forest. The next academic year, our second of high school, I met Nishizumi-dono when she transferred to Oarai Academy and the greatest honor of my life was to serve alongside her in Oarai's tank crew.

Nishizumi-dono was not an inspiring speaker or the most resolute individual. However, she was not only skilled in tankery- in fact, the only student at Oarai with considerable experience- she also had the ability to inspire the loyalty of those who served under her, and respect from her opponents, regardless of whether they defeated her or were victorious, making her ideal to lead.

* * *

Not long after the tankery club was formed, and we had our first practice match against St. Gloriana, Nishizumi-dono came face to face with her older sister and her successor as vice-captain. The new vice-captain disparaged Nishizumi-dono's decision, while her older sister remained strangely silent on it, apart from commenting that she did not think Nishizumi-dono would still be involved in tankery. If she supported Nishizumi-dono, shouldn't she have done something to stop the vice-captain? But if she shared the vice captain's opinion, shouldn't she have been more forthcoming about it? Perhaps there was more to the situation than I realized, or her opinion could not be classified as simple approval or disapproval, but she was unlikely to tell me.

I then recalled that Isuzu Hana-dono and Takebe Saori-dono had once said Nishizumi-dono had initially been reluctant to join tankery, even when faced with verbal pressure from the student council and what sounded like threats of expulsion. She was hesitant to discuss it even with her first friends at Oarai, but it was not difficult to see that what had happened in the finals of the last tournament was most likely what she had been thinking of. To say Nishizumi-dono's feeling troubled enough over her decision to doubt herself was frivolous would be an exaggeration, and an unfair one, at that. But I believed that she should not have had to feel that way about doing the right thing.

I personally knew what I had to say- the truth of what I felt about the issue, that Nishizumi-dono's decision was correct- only for the new Black Forest vice-captain to shrug off my statement and tell me that it was none of my business. I found it difficult to argue against her- I had not been there on that day, and it's sometimes easy to judge people without considering what they were going through at the time. If I could make that argument about Nishizumi-dono's critics, might that also apply to me? At a loss for words, I could only apologize in response, even though she was hardly the sort to politely accept it and my opinion had not changed.

It was not as though I was unaware of why the vice-captain would think what she did; while she was a largely unpleasant person, she most likely did not disapprove of Nishizumi-dono's decision out of pure spite or pettiness. There were those out there who valued victory above all else, and those who resented one person seemingly voiding all their hard work for victory with a single unilateral decision. The latter sentiment was understandable, as was the feeling of frustration over being defeated in such an important game due to what seemed like a single stroke of bad luck. But I also believed that the crew of the tank, who had the most at risk and knew best how little winning mattered in comparison, had been grateful to Nishizumi-dono for what she had done for them, and I was eventually vindicated.

* * *

Even when Nishizumi-dono understood what was truly at stake in the tournament, her determination did not falter, nor did her principles. She had originally sought to surrender to avoid people getting hurt, something which was bad enough in and of itself, but also would have tarnished everyone's enjoyment of tankery. Once she learned that it was not an option she could take, she managed to defeat Pravda while protecting all of us. In the finals, she was aware she was fighting for all our sakes, but rather than lumping us into a collective mass in which the welfare of a single individual is meaningless if outweighed by others, she sought to help each and every one of us. She refused to leave behind the Rabbit Team when their engine failed during a river crossing, and even managed to find a solution that enabled all of us to escape Black Forest together and ultimately triumph over them, in large part because of Rabbit Team. I wouldn't have done anything differently, but I don't think I could have pulled of that plan, or the rest of our strategy to defeat Black Forest as well as Nishizumi-dono.

We all wanted to win, for our school, for winning's own sake and for our own individual reasons. Nishizumi-dono strove to help us accomplish our goals together without leaving behind or sacrificing anyone, and because of that, we wanted to help her prove that her way of tankery was a path that would lead to victory. I personally knew that she was much more than the reputation that came with her family name, and it should not be asked whether she should live up to that reputation. She succeeded in tankery in her own way, on her own terms, and thus should be judged on her own merits. For those reasons, I was grateful to serve under her, and in many ways, know her better than most people ever would, if not as well as her family did. I would stand by her, and whenever other people criticized one of her decisions that I knew to be right, I would support her.

One question remained on my mind- what did Nishizumi-dono's mother and her older sister, who knew her from when she was born, think of her decision? Shouldn't they at least understand her reasons, even if they didn't agree with her? And did they push her away from tankery through their own actions? Perhaps in the end, only Nishizumi-dono and her family knew the answer; there was much about that day and the events leading to her departure from Black Forest that I did not know. But I also believed that only Nishizumi-dono herself understood what it felt like to have both the lives of her friends and the course of the match in her hands and to choose the former, and those who judged her decision unfavorably should not presume to know better unless they had experienced the same thing, like I had while crossing the river. Her way of tankery was not wrong, nor was her decision, and no matter how many people say I do not understand or it is not my concern, I will always continue to believe this.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Yukari is, as I pointed out, someone intended to represent a particularly intensely interested, but not actually involved party, who can put things into perspective and respect Miho for what she did, as she does at a few points in the anime. It's indicated that she felt this way long before meeting and becoming friends with Miho. She also represents Miho's friends from Oarai's perspective- not only do they support her way of tankery (Hana says in Episode 11 that she wants to win to prove that Miho's way of tankery is valid), but they also support Miho as her friend.

While Yukari is very much on Miho's side, I also suspect that she seems to realize and acknowledge that she's a relative outsider in this situation, as seen when she gives an apology rather than a rebuttal to Erika's statement that it's none of her business.

On a side note, Oarai being threatened with closure may seem like a standard way of injecting drama into a series about friendly inter-scholastic competition, but it actually has a deeper meaning to it. Miho, over the course of the series, gets used to the idea of tankery as something enjoyable, and the fact that there are actual stakes raises the question of how she will react now that there are consequences for losing that Miho cannot accept. Miho, however, is determined to win, and does so for her personal reasons- continuing to do tankery with all her friends, and strives to win without abandoning her comrades.

Yukari's section is something of a bridge between the first three chapters and the last three. The first three dealt with people who were at the scene at the time and were directly affected by the decision, but didn't know the whole story about why Miho decided to quit. The last three will deal with the Nishizumi family's perspectives on it, including Maho and Shiho, who had a more distant view of what happened, and place it into context within Miho's development. Those parts will also start to include references to Little Army, so I recommend reading that manga.

**Next Time**: Maho ponders two of Miho's major decisions regarding tankery, and as her assumptions are challenged, she begins to reconsider her own decisions.


	5. Nishizumi Maho: Duty

**Chapter 5: Nishizumi Maho: Duty  
**

It's often surprising how the most important events in our lives often occur where we cannot see them. From my perspective, the final few minutes of the final match against Pravda were nothing more than a seemingly ordinary shootout. I had sent Miho, commander of the team's flag tank, to escape by a narrow road near the cliff, while I fired on the tanks above, hoping to thin their ranks and uncover where the enemy flag tank had gone.

Through an attack on their flank, we managed to thin their ranks, and force them into a retreat. At that moment, I spotted the flag tank, tearing off in advance of the others. I prepared to issue a pursuit order.

Unbeknownst to me, the last few minutes had not been my team seizing the advantage, but rather, quickly being routed. I only heard about what happened later from the accounts of those who saw it and footage of the match, but heard the result when the announcement came over the radio.

"Pravda wins the tournament!"

I sat motionless and speechless for several seconds, transfixed by the news, as the shocked gasps of my crew barely registered in my mind. This… could not be happening. I was a Nishizumi, duty-bound to win at all costs. Had my strategy failed?

I was awoken from my daze by a call on the radio, and immediately snapped back into the stoic persona I adopted as commander.

"Commander, this is Team Zwei," the radio operator of Miho's tank said.

"Come in," I said. "What happened down there?"

"Team Drei's tank slipped off road and fell into the water," the radio operator said. "The vice captain… left our tank and dove into the water to save the crew. During this time, the enemy took a shot at us and knocked us out while we were trying to decide what to do. I...I'm sorry, Commander."

I almost broke down laughing at that moment, because I realized that this was, in a sense, my karmic comeuppance for my decision five years ago.

* * *

Five years ago, I, a first-year in middle school, rather than a second-year in high school, was in a match against a German middle school, also in the finals of that respective tournament. The day was gloomy, but through my tactics, most of the enemy team had been disabled, although the flag tank had eluded us so far. The enemy seemed eager to ward off its defeat, perhaps realizing that a single successful shot on my team's flag tank could make up for an entire round of being outnumbered, outmaneuvered and overpowered.

Suddenly, the enemy flag tank emerged from its hiding place and darted toward the edge of the cliff. This immediately struck me as suspicious. If it had been going in for an attack, it would have advanced toward us, firing its gun, if it had chosen to reveal itself before firing at all. If it had been retreating, it would have swerved to avoid my team's fire, would have avoided my line of fire, and would have gone somewhere I would have difficulty pursuing it, instead of heading toward an exposed dead end. If it was bait for a trap, the enemy would have been more careful, and would have sent it to where the other tanks were waiting.

There was a split-second decision to make, and I knew what I had to do.

"Fire on that tank!" I said. The loader and gunner swiftly moved and shot the tank, disabling it and winning the tournament.

I heard in the aftermath of that battle that one of my tanks had, immediately before the flag tank rushed out of hiding, fallen down the cliff and been cut off from communicating with me due to a radio malfunction. But it was not until much later that I realized that the enemy flag tank was trying to do when it had recklessly ventured out into the open. The younger sister of one of the members of the German team was furious with me for a time over this, and Miho herself was quite upset to hear it. But Mother wholeheartedly approved of my action, believing in victory at all costs.

I myself was shocked and ashamed when I realized the implications of what I had done, but I also knew what Mother required of me as her heir, and that I did not know the tank crew's true intentions. I find it difficult to imagine what I would have done in that situation if I had known what the tank was doing, but I know what the Nishizumi School required of me. Any speculation involves knowledge that I did not have at the time, as well as the ability to sit and reflect for minutes or hours on it. At that time, I did not have that luxury, and this time, neither did Miho.

And now our roles had been reversed, with Miho, commander of the flag tank, choosing to save our comrades over victory, and an opportunistic enemy taking the chance to win. There was no question that, regardless of whether she had time to think through her decision, or whether she knew her decision would lead to Black Forest's loss, she would have prioritized saving her teammates, given her shocked and almost heartbroken reaction when she had heard of my decision years ago. The only question was- could I have done more to prevent it from coming to this? But as all of my soul-searching was based on hindsight, I could not come up with a definitive answer.

* * *

"…Commander?" the radio operator said, after an overly long pause in the conversation.

"Sorry, what is it?" I said, my mind coming back to reality.

"The vice captain would like to speak with you."

A knot formed in my stomach as I realized that I had forgotten about Miho's welfare in the shock of hearing about what had happened, when it should have been the first thing on my mind. If Miho were the commander, she would have immediately asked about Team Drei's status after the radio operator's first sentence, and would have asked as forcefully as she could manage if I was safe if I had been in her position.

"Put her through" I said, hoping that the fact that she was available to speak meant she was safe.

"Onee-chan?" Miho said over the radio.

"Miho, are you and the others alright?" I said.

"Yes," she said, bringing small relief to me, enough to make me almost happy.

"That's good…" I said, pausing a moment.

"Onee-chan… I'm sorry," Miho said. "When I saw Team Drei go into the water I just... I just had to save them."

I paused as I contemplated what Miho had said. I knew her stating the reasons for her decision would require no further explanation in most cases, but since winning was everything to the Nishizumi school, and the match in question was of extremely high importance, there were those in our family who would take her to task for failing to carry out her obligations, notably our mother.

"I'm not angry, but…Mother will not be happy," I said. The statement came out as less reassuring than I had hoped, but I found doing so difficult when I was personally extremely worried about how things would turn out for both of us.

"Onee-chan…" she said with a concerned tone in her voice. Considering her willingness to dive into water to save some of her friends, I realized that the worry was not for herself. "I'll take responsibility," she said after a moment. "It was my decision, after all. You didn't do anything wrong."

I sighed. I had hoped that Miho would not have to bear the responsibility for what had happened, but if Mother had witnessed the results, I knew very well which of us she would decide had been most culpable in the defeat. The only question was whether I would share any of the blame, but Miho would deny any suggestions that I was at all responsible.

"I understand," I said. "Get dry clothes and head back as soon as you can. Maho out."

I then turned to my teammates. Regardless of all that was on my mind, I was still commander of the team as well as tank commander for Team Eins, and even though we had lost, I still had a job to do. Foremost among the jobs was being the pillar of strength for my team, and to do that, I had to exude an air of calmness and authority.

"Everyone, return for the post-game assembly," I said. "And please remember... grace in defeat is also part of tankery."

* * *

After the formalities associated with Pravda's unprecedented victory in the tournament wrapped up and we confirmed the safety of those who had almost drowned, Miho and I walked off to where Black Forest's tanks were kept to discuss what had happened. Her account was mostly similar to what the radio operator had reported. Hearing her speak about her reasons, I found it difficult to fault her for deciding that the fate of Team Drei must not be left to chance, while the fate of our flag tank could be, if necessary.

It then became clear to me that there was any number of things that could have happened that would have prevented things from coming to this, or would have prevented Miho's abandoning the flag tank from being the immediate cause of our defeat. Perhaps I should have been more decisive in attaining victory in the early battle. Perhaps the Pravda team was good enough to force mine into a corner. Perhaps Miho could have come up with an alternate idea rather than fleeing down the cliff road. Perhaps her crew could have handled things better in her absence, either helping their commander or carrying on without her. Hindsight is 20/20, though, especially when factors beyond our knowledge or control are in play, and for every decision that seemed to have been a bad idea in retrospect, there was one that seemed ideal or at least the lesser evil based on what we knew at the time. And yet, in Miho's position at that moment, I could think of nothing else she could to do other than to go after Team Drei.

"Onee-chan?" Miho said, having finished giving her account, and giving me a look that wondered when I would say something, and whether I had even heard her.

"Sorry, Miho, I-" I began. But then Miho's face contorted in fright, and I turned around to see what she had just noticed- or rather, who had just arrived.

Mother walked up to us, a fierce and extremely cold glare on her face that, in her signature way, showed great anger without implying a loss of composure, intense and focused like a ray of sunlight passing through a magnifying glass that sets paper and ants ablaze.

"Miho…" Mother said with a voice that chilled my entire being even though it did not address me. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"N-no, M-Mother," Miho said, taken aback. Mother was able to, when she wished it, undermine the resolve of anyone who opposed her and make them break down into a nervous wreck. Having been a tank commander since she was young before becoming a stern tankery instructor and a traditional, authoritarian mother, speaking with the authority necessary to give orders came naturally to her. Miho always had been somewhat on the timid side- as vice-captain, she helped with tactics and planning, but relied on me to order and inspire the troops- and as such, was especially susceptible to it.

"I…I went to save the members of my team who had fallen in," she continued. "I had to, or else they..."

Miho trailed off, and Mother did not give her a moment to think of what to say next.

"And in doing so, you sacrificed the hopes of the rest of the team, who were counting on you commanding and protecting the flag tank, and you sullied the honor of the Nishizumi School. You and I will have much to discuss when you return home." Mother then turned to me as Miho stood there, quaking and speechless. "Maho, your performance was adequate in spite of Miho's blunder."

"Yes, Mother," I said, unable to say anything more without risking calling down her wrath on myself.

"Very well then," Mother said. "I will talk with you more at home." She then turned around and walked away.

Miho stood there, trembling, and although one could not tell it by looking at me, I was merely doing a better job of hiding what I was feeling. But as she noticed what must have been a concerned expression on my face, she forced a smile. The conversation between us about what had happened dried up, and neither of us could find anything else to say before we returned to school with the others.

We were spared Mother's fury, but only for the moment, and the days that passed until we returned home felt like waiting for an execution. I can only imagine how painful it must have been for Miho, especially when she heard complaints from the team- including Itsumi Erika, her successor as vice captain- accusing her of causing our defeat. In spite of that, something seemed different about her in that time. In addition to the painful feelings of fear, shame and humiliation that went through her, there also seemed to be a sort of resolve, as if she was planning what to do next.

But she was unwilling to talk about her plans, the finals, or tankery in general with me, and I found out what her decision was too late to do anything to influence it.

* * *

Days later, back at home, I sat at the living room table, on Mother's right, as she lectured Miho over the events of the finals of the tournament. Most of the family meetings consisted of Mother doing all the talking and Miho and I only speaking when spoken to, usually to answer a question. Mother had heard everything, and if Miho was accused of tarnishing the family honor, this was less a trial than a sentencing.

I regret not being more supportive of Miho during that time. While I wanted to say something to Miho, no words came to mind, and my obligation to be the ideal Nishizumi School heiress prevented me from speaking out of turn, much less in support of Miho's "heretical" ideals.

Mother stressed that Miho had her duties as a daughter of the Nishizumi family. Miho tried to interject, but Mother continued her lecture on the necessity of sacrifice, and how Miho's unilateral decision had brought misfortune to many others on her team, I included.

"Every time you command or serve in a tank, you, who carry the name Nishizumi, represent our school. Your victories uphold our glory, while every time you fail your comrades, you bring shame to our name. If you cannot understand that, you should never set foot in a tank."

Mother was carefully constructed and graceful in all aspects of her, from the way she dressed to the way she carried herself to how she chose her words when speaking to others. As she was peerless in tankery, she applied most of tankery's relevant lessons to herself in life, and was able to command her respect and get her way in almost all situations. But she had just made a verbal misstep, and Miho picked up on it

"If that's the case, Mother…" Miho began. "Perhaps I shouldn't do tankery at all. I'm going to go to a school that doesn't have tankery so I won't have to worry about our family reputation."

"D…don't be ridiculous, Miho," Mother said, slightly taken aback. "What school of any value will you find that has such a place?" Indeed, most schools had a tankery program, if not one that could compete on a tournament level.

"Oarai Academy," Miho said, producing a printout that showed information on the school, and passing it to Mother across the table. Mother picked it up and pulled it closer, and I too looked at it. I noticed that the electives were circled and tankery was conspicuously absent.

At a loss for words, Mother sighed and began to get up.

"Fine, then," Mother said flatly. "It seems there is no convincing you otherwise. I will speak with you later regarding the transfer, but for now, you may go."

I had mixed feelings over this development. On the one hand, it was understandable that Miho would become upset by the fallout from this incident, and possibly eventually grow bitter about tankery itself if she was expected to win at all costs. On the other hand, I believed it was an unpleasant option of last resort, like an animal biting off a limb to escape a trap, and that Miho saw it this way as well.

I had always expected that Miho would find Nishizumi-style tankery to be too difficult an ideal for her to follow- she had the talent to live up to its standards, but not the ruthless determination to forsake everything else in the name of victory. I had even considered the possibility that those expectations would drive her away from tankery altogether. But seeing her make the decision to walk away was still disappointing. Miho's resolve had been shaken before, when she had failed to find people who shared her interest in tanks, and when she saw me demonstrate how cold and ruthless one seemingly had to become under our family's way of tankery. In spite of that, she had persevered, and found reasons to persist in tankery, as well as friends to do it with. But now, she was encountering obstacles to practicing her style of tankery, and as people whose ideals are challenged are wont to do, decided to give up on pursuing it.

It wasn't like Miho to give up without reconsidering. The past challenges for her interest in tankery had shaken her and forced her to re-evaluate her reasons, but she persisted, and her commitment was strengthened and redefined. She had made friends in Black Forest through the tanker club, and had earned her position as vice-captain through her skill. A setback of this nature should not have been enough to force her off the path she had walked until now.

After the meeting had ended, and Mother had left to do some work related to the school, I approached Miho in private.

"Miho…" I said. "Are you… sure about this?"

"I've made my decision, Onee-chan," Miho said. "I'm simply not able to make the sacrifices you and Mother can make to do tankery."

"I... understand." I said. "You seemed sure of yourself, sure enough to tell Mother your decision and stand by it even when she seemed unwilling to let you do it. I just wish it hadn't come to this."

"So do I," Miho said.

"_So this is how it ends…"_ I thought at the time. Being forced to do something or doing it obsessively can ruin something you enjoy, as I imagined that if I was fed my favorite food for weeks on end, or past the point where I was full, I would grow to hate it. For a long time now, I had thought of tankery as something I had to do for various reasons, rather than a personally fulfilling pursuit. There was no question that, in ideal circumstances, Miho loved tankery and had made many friends because of it. But now she was told that she was wrong to prioritize fun and friendship over victory and family honor, a conflict ensued between her family's ideals and her own. Something had to give, and that something was Miho's participation in tankery.

Miho's decision also caused me to question my own commitment. If she chose to walk away when faced with the sacrifices required, prioritizing her friends above victory and the principles of the Nishizumi School, what did it say about me? Was I continuing in the hopes of justifying all the sacrifices I had made thus far? Was I only going on because I knew no other way- and had no right to expect Miho to find her own way of tankery? Had I freed Miho from our family's standards by becoming the ideal heiress Mother wanted? But I resolved to continue to live up to being the Nishizumi heir, so that Miho would have the freedom to walk away if she chose to do so.

* * *

I was forced to come to terms with the reality of Miho leaving Black Forest when I was faced with the task of appointing her successor. While Itsumi Erika was arrogant and somewhat sycophantic in showing me respect she did not to others, she also had talent, and had fought well on my side in the tournament. I also had to answer questions by Teams Zwei and Drei about Miho's departure, simply calling it a personal decision that I would rather not discuss in more detail. They respected it, but the girls of Team Drei seemed to blame themselves for what happened, and worried about what Miho was going through. Soon, life at Black Forest seemed to go back to normal, but for those of us who knew or were related to Miho, it was not as easy to come to terms with her sudden absence.

At the time I was unaware how temporary Miho's decision to leave tankery behind would be- the result of Oarai's sudden decision to revive its tankery program that year(much to Miho's initial unpleasant surprise) and an equally sudden change of heart by Miho herself. Nor did I expect that Mother would not accept anything less from Miho than the same adherence to Nishizumi school teachings that I practiced, including placing one's duty to achieve victory above all else. Mother was even going so far as to disown Miho, which would result in my being strongly discouraged from contacting or seeing her. What did that mean for my efforts until now? I knew, however, that in the finals, there was one thing my teammates and my mother expected of me- to lead Black Forest to victory.

When I faced Miho before the finals, she looked surprisingly resolute, seeming as though she understood what I had to do, and had her own reasons for wanting to win. I didn't know what she had experienced in Oarai or during the tournament, but she had come a long way since we had done tankery together in Black Forest, having improved her tactics, become a stronger leader, and become more sure of herself. She had also made friends who were quick to support and defend her, and talented tank operators in spite of their inexperience; no leader can succeed without good followers, and Miho had inspired the loyalty of many of her fellow schoolgirls. The unconventional tactics she used against my forces, as well as her refusal to leave behind one of her tanks, and success in saving it without jeopardizing victory clearly showed she was neither blindly following the Nishizumi style nor running away from tankery, but was determined to win her own way.

In the end, I was defeated, not by a fluke or sudden decision, but by Miho managing to stay in the game through all of my tactics that I had hoped would defeat her, and ultimately disabling my tank in single combat. She told me after the match that she was able to find her own way of tankery, and this time, sounded not only sure of, but sincerely happy with her decision, before running off to rejoin her friends. Hearing that reminded me of the reason why I chose to follow the Nishizumi way- to win for the sake of things more important than winning, namely, Miho's happiness and freedom. As long as Miho is able to pursue her own way of tankery and is happy doing so, then my efforts to fulfill the obligations of the Nishizumi heiress are no longer an act of duty, but a gift of love to my little sister.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Maho is a challenging character to write because we seldom see what she is actually feeling. The main rule of thumb seems to be the closer she is to Erika or Shiho, the less likely she is to be acting as anything other than the aloof Nishizumi heir she is pretending to be, with some exceptions (such as loaning Mako her helicopter, telling Shiho that Miho deserved to win, or congratulating Miho and approving of her way of tankeryafter the finals).

It's also interesting to portray how Maho acts when she's shocked or unpleasantly surprised, given that she has a typically cool, aloof demeanor in the anime, and even in Little Army, when she's not using the facade, she's mostly relaxed and friendly. Even her defeat against Miho, which came despite all her planning, is arguably something she feels is desirable, since she calmly accepts it after realizing that Miho scored a disabling hit.

Some of the information about Maho's actions at her middle school tournament and her true motives for striving to be the perfect Nishizumi heiress are explored in Little Army, primarily Chapter 6 and Chapter 7. From these chapters, it becomes clear that Maho is a warmer and more caring individual than she initially appears in the anime, and that rather than ignoring or showing contempt for Miho, Miho's happiness and well-being play a large part in Maho's decisions. Maho, as expressed here, states her desire for Miho to choose her own path, and says "As long as I'm the heir to the Nishizumi School... Miho will be free." Unfortunately, as Shiho expresses in Episode 7 and 8 of the main series (in a flashback and conversation with Maho, respectively), Miho seems to be bound by the Nishizumi School's standards despite not being its heiress.

As a downside of keeping up the facade, Maho often finds herself unable to say anything in defense of Miho, such as in Episode 5 (although telling Erika to get going could indicate she doesn't care for her trash talk) or in the flashback of Episode 7. That seems to change somewhat when Maho learns that Shiho is considering disowning Miho, the worst of the outcomes Maho is trying to prevent.

Miho can be surprisingly reticent about her troubles, even to those closest to her; most of the time, someone has to specifically bring up the issue in question or confront her about her odd behavior to get her to say anything.

**Next Time**: Shiho reflects on what is expected of those born into the Nishizumi family, and how far one must go to meet those expectations. As Miho continues to defy the Nishizumi family's expectations, before, during and after the finals, Shiho ponders whether those expectations require her to cut ties with her daughter.


	6. Nishizumi Shiho: Sacrifice

**Chapter 6: Nishizumi Shiho: Sacrifice  
**

Perhaps the most important thing I learned in tankery over the years, from a student in training to a teacher of others, is that nothing of value in life comes without a price- often more than just money, time and effort. My younger daughter has had difficulty grasping this and making the requisite sacrifices that are expected of our family. I alternate between believing she never will, and recalling a time when such a simple idea was not obvious to me.

Growing up, while other girls my age spent time with their friends and pursued boys, I spent my time outside of school and homework studying and practicing with tanks. I felt overworked and somewhat lonely at the time, but it proved entirely worthwhile when my middle school tankery crew mates, who were older, turned to me for advice, and I was asked to be captain of the team in my first year, having more experience in my first year than some of the third-years, who had never set foot in a tank until enrolling. I was proud to be entrusted with this responsibility, but also knew that I was responsible for the entire team, and thus it was incumbent on me to spare no effort and put victory- a goal that required everyone's efforts and a reward everyone shared- above all else.

Tankery is a team sport, but individual responsibility is not diminished, especially since each person plays a vital role in a tank, and each tank is often an important part in a larger plan. Some people can handle multiple roles in a smaller crew, but each is critical. No individual, however competent, can make up for the shortcomings of the others in their assigned roles, and a single incompetent member can doom a tank team's chances of victory unless their opponent is similarly disadvantaged. As a result, I have given nothing less than my all in tankery, so that I could live up to the expectations placed on me, and expected those who served alongside and under me to do the same; In my family, nothing less than absolute success in the field of tankery was accepted.

The Nishizumi family is more than a family; it is also an organization devoted to its generations-old style of tank combat in which, not unlike a tank crew, there are ranks and roles, and its members have certain rights and responsibilities. As head of the family, like my mother before me, I have the responsibility of upholding the family honor, managing the school and ensuring that those under my tutelage and in my family are able to fulfill their responsibilities, as well as the right to do whatever is necessary to fulfill my duty. My daughters Maho and Miho, who carry on our name, carry with it the responsibility to represent the family well, and Maho, as my eldest daughter and heiress, will one day take up my responsibilities. Maho's character and commitment are not in doubt, and I believe the Nishizumi School will do well under her guidance. But Miho is not free of responsibility to this family despite not being the heiress, and both how and why she does tankery are worrisome.

* * *

From the beginning, Miho's commitment to tankery was a cause for concern. Unlike Maho, who had unquestioningly accepted and dutifully worked to fulfill her responsibilities, Miho had, at times, complained that tankery had isolated her from others, and that she had difficulty making friends who shared her interest in it. This seemed to indicate that tankery was, to her, a hobby that could be discarded when it bored her or interfered with non-trivial pursuits, rather than an art of the utmost importance and seriousness that our family had practiced for generations. And how far would she go with the things she valued if she were not willing to endure the less pleasant aspects of them?

Miho was shaken deeply by Maho's decision to put victory above all else by firing on an enemy flag tank even as it was trying to save her comrades, and that her doing so was approved of and required by our family school's philosophy. Miho's foolishness in questioning the Nishizumi family way stoked my ire, but I remembered that there was once a time when I had been a young girl, reluctant to enter tankery because no one else I knew was interested. But I was the Nishizumi heiress, as the only daughter of the family, and by forcing myself- and also being forced- to continue, I was able to overcome my inner limitations and improve myself as a person, becoming worthy of being family head and many other things. I told Miho that I hoped she would do the same one day, and in the process, come to understand why the Nishizumi family was uncompromising in its quest for tankery perfection.

It may be overly simplistic to say something like "misery builds character," but the decisions most necessary for success- in goals you choose yourself, as well as those chosen for you- are seldom the easiest or the most pleasant. It often takes an adult to realize this, and the related idea that there are things greater than your own desires and feelings, when a child cannot. Through adult guidance, children can make the decisions and learn the lessons they need to become responsible adults themselves. Tankery was a way of making women out of girls, and in that sense, those who put less than their full effort into it shortchanged themselves.

For some time, I had the hope that Miho would one day understand and adjust her attitude toward tankery, as one of the many changes children undergo before becoming adults. At least in terms of her results while doing tankery in middle school, I had nothing to complain about. Even if she was not up to Maho's level, she was still far above most of the other students, and she and Maho brought their school victory in the tournaments they entered. In the end, victory matters most to the Nishizumi School, and back then, I believed that Miho's reasons for fighting were unimportant as long as she could reliably achieve decisive victories.

But then I watched as Miho, at a critical juncture in the finals of the tournament, abandoned her obligations, disobeyed Maho's orders and threw away victory in order to go after drowning comrades rather than leave them to the rescue team and continue to do her duty. She did so in front of a television audience of thousands of people, looking to her for inspiration and as a representative of the Nishizumi school. Had she no conception that those teammates she saved, along with Maho and the rest of the team, were giving their all to win, and she had betrayed their efforts?

That action spoke volumes about where her priorities lay, and what sort of resolve she possessed, as did her halfhearted attempts to defend her decision. Miho clearly lacked the resolve to commit herself to a course of action and follow through with it the same way as Maho. Maho had, without complaining or asking why, wholeheartedly dedicated herself to tankery and the Nishizumi School since she was a small child, and put everything else second to her pursuit of victory and tankery perfection. But it seemed that even obedience was too much to ask of Miho.

I expected Miho to apologize and resolve to rededicate herself to practicing tankery _our _way, and would at least have had a measure of respect for a firm dedication to stand by her decision. Perhaps this fiasco would have been worth something if Miho had learned a lesson from it. But instead of moving forward as our teachings demanded, she ran away from the field of tankery, because she was unable to do what was required of her and did not want to have to even face another decision like that. What kind of life did she expect to lead if she was unwilling to make difficult decisions? Did she think she could avoid such decisions entirely? I was unpleasantly surprised and terribly disappointed in her, but was content for the time being that she would not further disgrace the family.

* * *

At one point after Miho had started at Oarai, I heard that she had assumed the captaincy of the revived tankery team, and was leading it into the semifinals against Pravda. As perhaps the only person in the school with tankery experience, she was extremely influential to the development of the team, like a one-eyed girl leading the blind. The instructor for that school, one of my former students, apparently ended up playing a minimal role, leaving Miho in charge of leading, instructing and ultimately directing the development of the team.

This was the last straw. Not only had Miho gone against the Nishizumi family ideology, but she was spreading her heresy to many others new to tankery, like a plague-ridden corpse being catapulted into a walled city. If it was impossible to change her mind or contain her influence, the only thing left to do was disassociate the Nishizumi name from this travesty. I then decided that if she was to continue down this path, she would do so without dragging our family name through the mud, and planned on disowning her. I had formally expelled students from my family's school in the past, and I took no pleasure in it, but recognized that there were times when cutting ties was best, particularly when the people in question had no intention of changing their actions. It was the same for Miho, even if she was my daughter. If she rejected everything our family stood for, there was no place for her in it.

To make matters worse, Maho, normally quiet, reserved and obedient in my presence, began voicing her opinion much more often about Miho, in addition to initially failing to report Miho's return to tankery. Maho was seemingly favorable to her, not only showing Miho sympathy but respect, terming her deviation from our school flexibility that helped her to win. Despite her feelings, Maho understood what her duty was as heir to the family, and swore to defeat her own sister on the field of tankery combat. Perhaps in large part, she made her vow because it was what I wanted to hear; I had always made my expectations of my daughters very clear. But Maho knew what she needed to do, and had the determination and capacity to do it- the sole thing that set her apart from Miho. If Miho had that determination, Black Forest would be fighting for its eleventh consecutive victory, rather than to avoid a second consecutive loss.

To my surprise, it was Miho who led her school to victory in the tournament, after a fierce battle in an enclosed courtyard with Maho's tank. More than that, she had risked much in order to save one of her tanks when its engine stalled in the river, and had won in part because of the tank's assistance in disabling two of Black Forest's stronger tanks. I believed Miho had won despite those risks, giving Maho's forces time to catch up and almost facing complete defeat right there. I also could not help but wonder how long Miho would have circumstances that favored her making these risks.

Ultimately, the Nishizumi School values victory above all else, and for the moment, I silently acknowledged that regardless of what would happen in the future or how difficult it would be for Miho to uphold those ideals, this time, Miho had won. She had triumphed over Maho's following our ideology of winning at all costs, and had succeeded on our terms as well as her own. As I slowly applauded with no one around to see me, I realized tradition and duty were not what was on my mind.

Miho, if you learn nothing else from the Nishizumi School, understand that there are times when you must make sacrifices- particularly when you choose to forsake what you want to do for what you must. Only by doing so can you fulfill your obligations and even accomplish your personal goals.

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
**

Thank you for the reviews. I also think Chapter 5 turned out relatively well, although I was initially concerned about how to portray how open Maho is about her caring for Miho (although there are points at which Maho can be pushed to take action, like apologizing to Miho for acting coldly when Miho is bothered enough to summon the nerve to question their mother).

severstal: I suppose Yukari seeming less overexcited is partly the the result of my writing, and partly the result of her looking back on her experiences, especially when she was merely a spectator, at that. The latter also means that for her, the memories are less vivid than if she's trapped and almost drowning, or panicking as the chain of command she relies on is disrupted (the final episodes also note Black Forest doesn't do well when thrown into disarray), or rushing to save her friends herself.

IcyBlaze4545: Perhaps a more accurate term for Maho would be "Sugar and Ice Personality" (formerly "Kuudere" as a sister trope to Tsundere), since Tsundere reminds me more of Mako's grandmother. I wonder if the people in the discussion had read Little Army- even before the revelation in Chapter 7 of why Maho is trying to be a worthy heiress, there are several scenes of her acting more affectionately toward Miho than in the anime (such as patting her on the head after finding out she had made friends through tankery, and giving Miho advice in flashbacks).

Regarding this chapter, I realize that it's practically impossible to make Shiho sympathetic here (apart from the brief reaction to Miho's victory in the last episode) while keeping her in character, but I decided to show her side of the story and some indications as to why she thinks the ways she does. This includes that (at least in her mind), she believes in part that upholding the Nishizumi school's teachings will help Miho succeed, and is a strong believer in people being responsible to the organizations and ideologies to which they belong. She has lost sight of the importance of other things, most notably actually being a mother, but she deserves to at least have the reasons for why she is doing things the way she is detailed. She most likely believes that her way of parenting will help Miho grow up to be a good adult and a good tankery practitioner, the two of which appear to be related in this series, even if she has largely forgotten about Miho as an individual rather than a representative of the school.

Shiho also expresses in Little Army that "There will come a time when you will understand this, Miho", indicating a certain amount of patience regarding Miho, and the expectation that she will change her mind. From that quote and a preliminary translation of Chapter 8 in which Sakuyo, one of the family maids says "Madam/Mistress herself had to face many things as well" (which got changed to "I am indebted to the mistress for everything"), I began to wonder whether Shiho had been shaped in a similar way from her childhood, and believes that Miho will be most successful by following in her footsteps.

This chapter is, however, also intended to illustrate how little Shiho understands her daughters, and how judgmental she is despite knowing about as much of the events of Team Drei sinking and Miho going after them as Yukari did. She fails to appreciate Miho's reasons for saving the crew or concede not knowing what it feels like (as Yukari did). She is also ignorant of the fact that Oarai was in danger of closing, and thus a major reason for Miho's motivation in the finals. It's entirely possible Shiho has no idea why Maho is trying so hard to be a worthy heiress, possibly because Maho doesn't want her to think that it's for any reason other than the sake of the family and school or that she supports Miho deviating from the Nishizumi style (apart from saying Miho deserved to win in Episode 10).

In short, Shiho is not a very good mother and is wrong about many things, to say the least, but she believes she is preparing her daughters for the responsibility of heading the Nishizumi family, and raises them the way she does out of the belief that she has no room for sentimentality. Despite this, she still has the potential to admit when she is in error, and possibly also to change. For this reason I decided to leave the last paragraph slightly ambiguous with regards to the long-term impact of Miho's victory on Shiho's view of her, and whether she has acknowledged it as valid.

One thing I had hoped for, however, was a final argument between Miho and Shiho over the Nishizumi School's values and her own, in which Miho would prove the validity of her way of tankery. Miho had once tried questioning the Nishizumi School's way of doing things in "Little Army", but her question fell flat, and it's possible that she would be more successful if she tried again, being more confident and sure of her own way of tankery, and able to back it up by saying that she had won a tournament.

From what Miho says, it seems Shiho opposed her going into Oarai, but in Episode 8, it seems Shiho only planned on disowning Miho after hearing about her going into the semi-finals against Pravda, which I inferred to be related to her decision to rejoin tankery in Oarai and lead their team her own way.

**Final Chapter: **Miho reflects on her years-long effort to find a reason for doing tankery, on being faced with battles that cannot be lost, and whether any cause justifies or inevitably requires sacrifice.


	7. Nishizumi Miho: Purpose

**Final Chapter: Nishizumi Miho: Purpose  
**

In all our lives, there comes a time when we realize just how trivial abstract principles such as honor, winning at any cost, following one's ideology or so forth are compared to what is at stake at the moment. In many cases, those are situations in which we must weigh those principles against what we value most, when absolute adherence to those principles demands sacrifice. For me, the sacrifice demanded was the safety and well-being of several of my teammates and friends.

When I saw Team Drei's tank slide into the river during the finals of our high school's tankery tournament, I immediately realized what was at stake. There was no hesitation in my actions when I climbed out of my tank, half-ran, half-tumbled down the slope, and dove into the water to go after the tank. Everything else was pushed out of my mind- what Team Zwei would do without me, my and my sister's strategy, our team's chances of victory, and even concern for my own safety. I knew this had to be done, and I was in the best position to do it, so there was nothing to hinder my actions except the fear that I might be too late. But even that faded when I pried open the hatch and the crew of the tank emerged, quickly swimming to the surface. As I looked to the crew, who were gasping for breath but alive and conscious, I felt a sense of relief only surpassed by what they must have felt.

At the time, I had been certain my decision was the right one, even as I saw that my flag tank had been disabled in my absence, and immediately realized that I would be held accountable. Losing the tournament seemed to be an acceptable price for the safety of those girls who were my comrades and friends. Second place was an admirable result by most people's standards, especially for those who went up against Black Forest. My sister had another year to win the tournament, and I had two more, whereas if anything befell those girls, they would not have another chance to win the tournament or do anything else. Thus, while I was scared of facing my sister and Mother after what I had done, I believed that anything that happened to me would be outweighed by what I had saved those girls from.

Unfortunately, when I faced Mother after the match, my words failed me and I was unable to defend my decision against her. Perhaps I lacked Mother's confidence and iron will. Or perhaps I lacked the experience, the understanding of tankery and the proof to argue the validity of my way of doing tankery. How could I, a girl who had practiced tankery for a few years, make a successful rebuttal against the ideology of a school that had been in existence for almost a century, or out-debate Mother, one of the most experienced and respected practitioners in the field? One might have a good and noble idea, and may even be right about it, but without the evidence and insight to defend it against more skeptical and cynical individuals, it only comes off as pretty words, rather than something can be put into practice, made reality, and adopted by the initially unwilling.

* * *

Back at home, Mother spoke to me of the principles behind the Nishizumi family's practice of tankery, principles I had always heard were stricter than what most people followed. I then recalled how much we had stood out from others in our pursuit of our interest. Growing up, an interest in tankery from such a young age that would be considered standard for a Nishizumi would be seen as precocious at best and obsessive at worst, and I had difficulty making friends with similar interests because of that. Akiyama Yukari-san, who later became a close friend, said she had a similar experience before she met me and the rest of our team, having intently focused on tankery to the point at which she did not make any friends when she was young. There is little that is more frustrating and more disheartening than being unable to find people with whom you can do what you love most when what you love most can only be done with other people. But I did love tankery, and after some reassurance from my sister, I pledged not to give up.

In my last year of elementary school, I met Hitomi-chan, Chihiro-chan and Emi-chan, and we played with a tank for an entire summer. The summer was full of highs and lows, but in the end, I found that tankery was something that was fun, that required and encouraged building friendships, and that helped improve practitioners as people. Around this time, though, I realized that the Nishizumi School required me to do what was necessary for victory, even make sacrifices I was unwilling to make, but my sister encouraged me to find my own way of doing tankery.

Naturally, finding a way was difficult, since tankery was always something I had done, partly because my family expected it of me, and partly in order to imitate my sister, who was my greatest role model. I had never thought very deeply about why I was doing it, and coming up with a new reason for what one is already doing is counter-intuitive, to say the least. But even so, I found a reason to continue tankery; to gain and fight alongside comrades in the field, much like I had in that one summer. I believed that by doing so, I could seek the joy that I felt riding in a tank that summer with my friends without sacrificing my comrades or my happiness. As Emi-chan returned to Germany to find her own reasons for doing tankery, I promised to meet her again when I had found my own way, and promised the same to Chihiro-chan and Hitomi-chan when we went our separate ways after graduating.

I ended up going to the same school as my sister, doing tankery alongside her. Mother seemed to approve of my performance at first, since by winning, I had upheld my obligations, which were separate but not mutually exclusive from my personal goals. I had always put my full effort into winning, since by doing so, I could enjoy tankery the most, and I thought that level of commitment and effort was good enough for Mother if I won. I was successful until my first year of high school, when the incident happened and I made a choice that Mother deemed unacceptable.

* * *

In this confrontation, it seemed to me that everything I had done up until now was a game in the eyes of Mother, a relic of childhood that one had to set aside as they got older, like how children progress from reading picture books to seriously analyzing great works of literature instead of merely enjoying the story. She had not accepted my reasons, merely tolerated them so long as they had not interfered with obtaining victory at all costs. And now that there was a conflict between my way of tankery and the Nishizumi style, it seemed to both of us that either I would have to choose whether I would follow the Nishizumi style at whatever cost was demanded of me, or forsake tankery completely.

My sister sat across from me during the family meeting, completely silent, with a cold and serious expression that reminded me of a soldier on duty who had regularly risked his life and faced hardships that made ours seem trivial in comparison. I knew her reasons for doing so, but it still hurt to see her act in such a way, and my will crumbled as I realized I was alone against Mother. No one was supporting me or depending on me to persevere- not even the girls I had saved. Even when I was supported by my friends years ago, I could only ask a single question about whether my sister was expected to win at any cost, and was unprepared to respond to Mother's firm affirmation that she was.

I was hesitant to talk with my sister about what Mother had said after the match in the days before we returned home. I felt as though I knew what she would say- that I needed to find my own way of doing tankery. Ordinarily, such an answer would be the proper one, since one can rarely solve one's own problems with others doing the thinkng, which was the final lesson Emi-chan taught me before returning to Germany. This time, it seemed as though Mother allowed no room for individual thought and decisions. If I was not allowed to do even that, what was left for me?

I then thought about why my sister did tankery; she committed herself to fulfilling her obligations as Nishizumi heir so that I could live the way I wanted without being pressured to be her replacement. Possibly because of her motivation, or who she was, she was more willing to endure whatever it took and keep pushing herself forward than I was. She had succeeded in living up to Mother's standards, and yet I did not feel as though I had escaped the expectations associated with an inheritor of the Nishizumi School. Mother continued her lecture, telling me that I, too, was bound by the tenets of the school, yet another person who bore responsibility for the school's reputation from the moment I was born. Every time I went into tankery, I would be judged by how much I could live up to my family's reputation, both by my family and outsiders.

I had known this was coming since Mother had confronted me after the match. In retrospect, I should have anticipated something like this happening all along, but I chose to deny the possibility, to hope that I could reconcile my way of tankery with the Nishizumi family's expectations. It was only thanks to luck, my sister's skill and the strength of the teams we had served on that we had won every match until now, and I had avoided having to make such choices. The moment had come for me to announce my decision- to leave Black Forest and Tankery behind and go to Oarai Academy, a school I had chosen specifically because it had no tankery program. There, the name Nishizumi meant nothing and I could be whatever I wished to be.

Mother looked taken aback for a moment, one of the few times I'd seen her stern visage show any sign of vulnerability or surprise, as I had made a decision she had not anticipated. This was the first time I had managed to get in a point on my favor in this argument, and it was only after resorting to the tactic I had least wanted to do.

My sister caught up to me after my talk with Mother, and seemed quite surprised at my decision. Her surprise was understandable, since I had not discussed it with her. But I think she knew all along that I was never suited for the Nishizumi style of tankery, which is why she decided to bear that responsibility in my stead. For this reason, he had once said that if I hated it, it was fine if I chose to quit. Indeed, if there was nothing left for me in tankery but fighting and winning regardless of the cost, then I saw little point in continuing. She seemed somewhat disappointed as she realized she would never convince me. I wondered if she had also considered making the same choice at one point or another, but continued because she was expected to do so.

As I prepared to leave Black Forest, I decided to keep my departure as discreet and private as possible, saying it was due to a personal issue, and asking my sister to say it was a family matter if anyone from the team asked; I hoped Team Drei would not blame themselves for a decision I made on my own. I realized that I would leave behind tankery, the friends I had made in it, and even my sister. I then began to wonder- was this what Mother had meant when she said sacrifices were necessary? Was the only way for me to be happy to leave behind everything I knew and had gained through tankery? And had I truly made the right decision?

* * *

"Class, this year, we have a new transfer student," my new homeroom teacher at Oarai said. "Nishizumi-san, please introduce yourself to the class."

I had always found it interesting, and a bit unfortunate, that apart from those who earned the privilege of calling me by my given name- a small and selective group in our society- everyone knew me first as a Nishizumi. But no one appeared to react to my family name, and I took small relief in that.

"Hello, everyone, I'm Nishizumi Miho," I said to my new class. At this point, I would have mentioned hobbies- first among them, my interest in tankery- but now that I had forsaken it, and had nothing comparable to it, I decided to skip that part. "I look forward to working with you all!" After taking a bow, I then walked to my seat, as a normal schoolgirl seeking a purpose in life.

A small nagging feeling remained inside of me. Maybe I had given up too easily. Maybe I was running away. Maybe in trying to live without tankery, I was beginning to realize that being a tank commander was an integral part of who I was. Maybe I had forgotten that tankery was pleasant for me; even when we pursue the passions we enjoy most, there are times when we feel upset or frustrated, among a myriad of negative emotions that we feel when we're reminded that every rose has thorns. But while the feeling gave me some cause to doubt my decision, it did not give me enough insight to find a way to reconcile my tankery ideals with reality or accept the Nishizumi style.

It just so happened that when I transferred to Oarai, the school revived its tankery program, and the student council was especially desperate to have me in Tankery, as one of the few people with prior experience. But Takebe Saori-san and Isuzu Hana-san, my first friends at the school, were willing to forgo tankery in spite of their interest so that they could take the same elective as I did, and were willing to defy the Student Council and risk incurring their wrath to defend my decision. At that moment, I realized that I had found the friends I had hoped for, who respected and chose to defend my decisions. I then chose to go into Tankery, with the hope that I could put my ideals into practice and enjoy tankery once again.

I met many people with different approaches to tankery, and learned more about their approaches to it. Darjeeling-san's team defeated us in a practice match, but she said she enjoyed fighting against my team more than my sister's stronger team, making it among the first times I was favorably compared to my sister and heard strength was not everything. Kay-san, by withholding some of her forces after learning of her subordinate's intercepting our radio transmissions- not illegal but hardly sportsmanlike- and talking with me after the match, showed it was possible to not only enjoy tankery but do it for fun. Anchovy-san valued victory above all else, but in her own way, seemed to see it as a goal shared by the entire team; something to which all members, especially the leader, contributed, and all members shared once it was attained. Katyusha-san was similarly determined to win, but also able to respect her opponent's capabilities, realize when she was bested and accept defeat from a worthy foe. In seeing people who enjoyed winning and losing, and who competed because they wanted to, rather than because they had to, I remembered that I could choose my own reason for doing tankery.

* * *

Unfortunately, the tournament had higher stakes than I had imagined- Oarai's very existence was on the line. According to the student council during the lowest point of the match with Pravda, the school could only remain in operation by winning the tournament, and nothing less than first place could achieve that goal. Before, it was easy enough to throw away victory to avoid one of my friends getting hurt, but if I did that in this tournament, I would be betraying the hopes of the entire Oarai student body, not just my teammates, and I would be separated from my friends and uprooted once again. At that point, however, I realized that while there were times when failure was not an option, sacrifice was not always a necessity, and I was able to help my team to escape the church and defeat Pravda without anyone getting hurt.

Knowing the cost of defeat seemingly meant I had no choice but to win at all costs- but it also meant I had something to protect, and a reason to fight. I wanted to preserve the bonds I had formed with everyone this year, and hoped to continue in the next year. Hearing about what was at stake gave me reason to fear what would happen if we lost, but it also inspired me. The student council had been counting on me all along, believing I could rise to the occasion and save the school, but they also gave their all in the tournament. All those students, from the volleyball club that was likely a victim of budget cuts, to history and auto enthusiasts, to freshmen hoping to return to the school next year and the year after, to girls from the Disciplinary Committee's Mallard Team fighting alongside the chronically tardy Reizei Mako-san, to girls meeting each other for the first time in real life, all came from many backgrounds and were united for a common cause.

It was for that cause that Rabbit Team asked me to go on without them when their engine stalled in the river, even though they were in very real danger in the water. They had remembered a time when they had panicked and fled, and had felt guilty over causing me trouble back then. With the school on the line, they did not wish to get in the way again, at any cost. But I was also pursuing victory for their sake, and refused to leave them behind or give up, managing to tow them to safety long enough for them to restart their engine. I did not see it as a case of choosing between saving them and winning the match, not when their help was vital for our success. With their covering fire, and the assistance of the others, I was able to immobilize the Maus' turret long enough for Hana-san to disable it, they eliminated the Elefant, and they sacrificed their own tank to defeat the Jagdpanther, proving instrumental in removing some of my sister's trump cards.

In my final confrontation with my sister, everyone was counting on me winning where I had once lost in the past. My Anglerfish team planned and carried out one last desperate effort to end the duel, defeating my sister and securing our school's future. Before she left, my sister congratulated me, and told me my way of tankery was different from the Nishizumi school, but worthy on its own merits. At that moment, I realized that I had found what I had been looking for since I had first started tankery as a young girl, and what I thought had been beyond my reach since the finals of the last tournament. I could now do tankery on my own terms, not following anyone else's, as my sister had advised me to do all those years ago, and as we returned to our schools, we both did so pleased with my new sense of purpose.

Mother might see my determination as inadequate, but I had reasons to not give up. She might see me as fighting for the wrong reasons, but for those reasons, I put everything I have into winning. And even if she sees my skill and resolve as inferior to my sister, I had what it took to win against her. Whatever happens from here on out, I will continue forward in tankery, on the path I have chosen for myself, along with those who have chosen to walk it with me.

* * *

**Author's** **Note**: Thank you for reading this story and for the reviews.

IcyBlaze4545: Little Army played a significant role in this work; not only does it reveal quite a bit about Maho, making her a more interesting and likeable character than in the early anime (she's my favorite character from Girls Und Panzer), but it's also a story about Miho finding a reason why to do tankery, and taking the first steps from seeing it as something that she just did to something she wants to do for her own reasons. The incident at the center of this fic was a setback, but as the ending of Little Army indicates, Miho returned to tankery, and as the anime's ending shows, found her own way of tankery.

Silver-Eyed-Rukia: Yes, that was a typo on my part. Thank you for pointing it out; it has been fixed.

BF110C4: That's an apt way of putting Shiho's (lack of) perspective. I recall that some of those discussing Miho's decision argued that if it had been a real battle to the death, Miho should have left the tank behind and concentrated on winning instead of risking more lives to save them.

This last chapter was meant to tie together Little Army, the events before and during the show, and this incident in order to chronicle the evolution of Miho's ideals about tankery; the closest thing to "the whole story". While it's not revealed what happened between when the Miho-Chihiro-Hitomi-Emi tankery group disbanded and the incident in the finals that this fic is based around, it can be assumed that things went, for the most part, without problems, and that event was the first time since Little Army that Miho had difficulty reconciling her own personal style of tankery with her family's. Her time at Oarai helped her to rekindle her love of tankery, as well as find her reasons to continue.

Based on my interpretation, while Miho says she was following the Nishizumi way, it seems that she had her own priorities, and hoped to do tankery for her own reasons as long as she could. Essentially, the incident with Team Drei in the finals was the first time Miho, by doing what she wanted, was unable to live up to the Nishizumi School's expectations. Believing that she could only continue to do tankery the Nishizumi way, Miho quit and transferred to Oarai, leading to the events of the show.

Miho seems to be somewhat on the self-deprecating side, as she says to Yukari after Aoi thanked her that she still doesn't know if her decision was correct, but at the time, she wanted to save her friends. It's thus possible that she believed wholeheartedly that she was right at the time, but after facing so much criticism, she began to doubt herself.

I alluded to a brief shot in the family meeting in Episode 7, in which, after Shiho tells Miho that she cannot win without sacrifice, Maho looks up with a cold look on her face, and Miho looks like she's about to cry. I decided to explore that in light of Maho's real reasons for pursuing her status as Nishizumi heir, and the true nature of her relationship with Miho; it's possible Miho knows that the Maho who acts cold to her isn't the real Maho, but understandably finds it painful to see her sister act that way.

The winning next year part is similar to reasons the Freshman team gives in Episode 8 before the match with Pravda. Momo is fairly upset by hearing this, so much that she almost discloses the part about the school being shut down, but in her case, there are consequences for all of Oarai if they lose.

Anchovy's sentence comes from the manga, which shows the match against Anzio at the expense of only showing the last moments of the match against Saunders. Before the match, Anchovy taunts Miho by saying that her way of tankery is weak, and having watched the last tournament, has resolved not to lose on the one who turned her back on tankery. After the match, Anchovy is a sore loser and rages against Miho, accusing her of throwing away a victory back then. When Miho expresses her reasons for doing tankery, Anchovy says that a commander's responsibility is to bring victory to the subordinates, and as she's leaving, apologizes to Carpaccio, possibly for losing. Interestingly enough, Miho seems to see her approach to tankery as a valid one, and says at the end of Little Army that she hopes to meet people with different styles of tankery, an idea I incorporated into that paragraph.

I had planned a second chapter with Aoi at one point and an epilogue that looks at all the individual perspectives again, but I decided to cut these out because they didn't fit as well with the flow of the story (Aoi's personality after the finals, for example, is best dealt with when she goes to speak to Miho in Episode 10).


End file.
